Over the last year we’ve tore into this classic 2003, 100th anniversary Road King. I figured I wanted a touring bike for the long haul. The notion was designed around maintaining the 100th theme, adding to the blackness and durability. I wanted a tough black bastard to ride, not detail or polish for shows. A bike for years to come. What could be better?

We kicked it off with light styling and safety accessories like a blacked-out dash, lowered shocks, rewired turnsignals, touring components and detachable back rests.

We worked with a dealer for more involved tech mods and performance enhancements. Our formula was designed around beefing the low-end torque with cams, Screaming Eagle heads, air cleaner and two into one pipes. I ran it directly from the lift to a dyno, for a comparison test, which resulted in 68 horses, an 8-horse increase and 76 pounds of torque, a 6-pound increase.

My old school notions leaned toward blacking out the king. If the frame had been another base color we might have followed it, but unity was the slogan behind design changes. I worked with Custom Powder Coating in Dallas as we stripped the touring model, inventoried the elements and sent them to the masters of powder (214)638-6416.

I rode over to Henry Figueroa’s Auto Restorations, a steel corrugated building on the wrong side of town. We removed the license plate holder and rear plastic fender tip. The filling and paint came from Henry (310) 218-9097. Henry filled the holes in the bottom of the fender and prepare it for George, The Wild Brush, to perform classic pinstriping magic (310) 488-5488.

I wanted to flame the bastard but paid homage to the 100th anniversary of H-D, reluctantly. We compromised and snatched the gold and silver (or gray) from the edge of the 100th tank band and expanded it to other elements of the King.

We installed a factory oil cooler and tested it on the road to Barstow, California. Every goddamn element was covered in techs right here on Bikernet. Keeping the oil at a resonable temperature is critical to long rang reliability.

Since I might ride the King to Sturgis this year and pack a Bikernet babe, we installed a detachable back rest for long distance runs.

“It could be flamed and raked,” Renegade shouted from behind his rigid, kicker-only, magneto charged Shovelhead.

H-D Lowered shocks — For coolness without disturbing the ride.
H-D Shock pump tool — For ease of modifying and checking ride ability for singleor double-up runs.
H-D Taillight/brake light mod — To turn the turn signal lights into brakelights for added stopping visibility.

H-D Digital dipstick — For ease of observing oil temps.
H-D Docking kit — For backrest and fender rack capabilities.
H-D 100th Anniversary Cobra style seat — For coolness.
H-D Blacked out dash panel — For coolness and lack of sun glare on the openroad–get it?

H-D Crash bar bags — For additional touring space.
H-D Mobil windshield — For low or high touring.
H-D Windshield bag — For windshield storage
Screamin’ Eagle Teardrop air cleaner cover–Style.
Screamin’ Eagle Heads–Enhanced flow and increased compression.
Screamin’ Eagle Air Cleaner Kit–Improve air velocity
Screamin’ Eagle Two Into One Touring Exhaust–Matching exhaust with heads.
H-D Speedo/Tach–More tuning information for the rider.
Screamin’ Eagle EFI turner kit–Tuning software.
H-D SE-203 cam set–Specific low end/mid range performance enhancement.
Goodrich Hydraulic lines and fittings–Extended lines for highbars.
Barnett’s Tool– Extended throttle and clutch cables.
Custom Chrome 16-inch High Bars–Changing the nature of the beast.

H-D black mag wheels and floating rotors with black centers–Adding to the blacked out look.
H-D fender brackets–Allowed the solid black Street Stalker fender to be bolted to the touring front end.
Screamin’ Eagle teardrop turnsignals and the narrower light bar–All style
H-D fender, license plate mount–Moved the bracket out of the way.
H-D New oil cooler for 1999 and later touring models–essential to cool the King.
H-D custom billet tab for the rear of the stock seat–We needed an extra one.
H-D Front and rear detachable docking hardware kits–Allows for detachable touring accessories to be mounted
H-D Lower backrest/sissybar–Designed to pleasure the ladies.

H-DClassic hexbolt covers and stainless Allen caps to begin an engine detailing process.
H-DClassic Chrome Axle caps–Factory styling additions that prevent chrome shop runs.

There’s nothing like a run to nowhere. No plans, no dates, no deadlines and no formula, we just rode in the sweltering heat like two abused dogs searching for new owners. After a couple of beers, if someone asked, “why?” the cryptic answer would contain: Just to get out of town, to test the new H-D Twin Cam oil cooler, against an ’89 Evo, to see the Hamster gang on their way to Sturgis, to roadtest a new pair of denims, to have my bike blessed by a Catholic Cardinal and finally to avoid the rain.

The famous comforting Gusset in the Diamond Gusset jeans.

Granted some of this scattered reasoning was whacked. It’s summer, why would it rain? Dr. Hamster and I have ridden on perfectly clear days to Arizona, a fuckin’ desert, and it rained on us. Not a misty sprinkle that relieved the heat, but a goddamn downpour that had us standing knee deep in gas stations attempting to refuel.

High dollar chain wallet for road protection. It was given to me at the LA Calendar show by a blonde knockout. She handed out free wallets to anyone who would stare at her tits or her sponsor’s truck, Schapiro & Leventhal, The Motorcycle Attorneys.

This time we got the hell out of Dodge in the middle of the day, under scorching rays. The day before I tore into the King, changed all the fluids and installed a new 1999 and later oil cooler for touring models. Several readers wrote concerning cooling problems with Twin Cams, and I did some research. According to Clyde Fessler the Twin Cam was destined to be a fluid cooled motor, due to the excessive heat that the factory design crew couldn’t eliminate, until Jim Fueling stepped in, at the last minute. Jim tested larger exhaust valves to remove the hot exhaust gasses fast and efficiently. Apparently, his input saved the Twin Cam project. It’s not unheard of to see a Twin Cam running through town with oil heated to over 240 degrees, whereas an Evo will trip through the same crowded streets cooking the oil only to 130 degrees. That’s significant. The installation is destined for publication in American Rider and on Bikernet in the near future.

After washing, the Gusset jeans didn’t shrink. They had the length I needed.

As the week closed, and I loaded my shit for the run, a package arrived from a new Bikernet advertiser, Diamond Gusset Jeans. Here’s a confession: I’m close to 6 foot 5 inches and have a problem finding denims that fit and have the length for cowboy boots on bikes. I discovered that my 36-inch-inseam pants were riding high on boot shanks. Another tall partner recommended 38-inch inseams. I started looking. The only pair I hunted down were special ordered from Levis. There was a catch. They were unwashed 501s. When I washed them, they shrunk up to 36-length. Gusset came through with britches built loose for a biker and long enough for a tall bastard. I decided a road test was in order.

No button-fly on the Diamond Gusset jeans.

We traveled light, threw a couple of T-shirts in a bag, with some sunscreen and night glasses, and we hit the road with a digital camera. After only 31 miles, I met Dr. Hamster in Santa Monica and checked the oil temperature. It indicated 213 degrees and my ambient temp gauge told me it was 90 degrees on the coast at 11:00 a.m. We rolled onto the 405 freeway, to the 118 East, to Glen Oaks where we spun off to have our bikes blessed at a custom car gathering near the Hansen Dam. It’s an old school, new kid gathering of lowriders, hot rodders and bikers. It was located in a hot open park, in Pacoima, packed with metal flake, primer, babes, chrome and flames. We had scrambled through another 52 miles and the King was sporting 222 degrees in the 95 degree air temp. The jeans were still comfortable in the blistering sun. I wasn’t forced to pull on the legs for relief, as I sat in the King saddle.

Restored 1958 BMW

We dodged security and fluorescent cones to park with the show cars next to a 1958 restored R27 BMW single. A classic machine. A girl wearing a black quilted welder’s cap was lying in the grass. “I’ve had it seven years,” she said behind dark sunglasses, “but it took me a year to get it rolling.”

Dr. Hamster, riding partner and therapist.

We were impressed by the tattooed broads dressed like ’50s rod chicks with bleached blond hair in curls, checkered tops pressed against store bought tits and ruby red lips. An artist Sara Ray caught the action on canvas. She should go places.

Sara Ray art, (562) 223-0967.

I ran into a couple of riders I had featured in past issues of ER and one displayed his super sanitary, teal Panhead. I told him it deserved a feature. The truck-built hot rod by Ian Rousseau, was unlike anything I had ever seen. But the sizzling summer sun drove us back into our saddles and down the road. It doesn’t matter what the temp gauge says, at 100 mph we’re cool.

Industrial hot rod built by Ian.

We jammed onto the 210 freeway heading toward Pasadena when the traffic locked up. Downtown Pasadena and Sierra Madre are known for their restaurants and Sierra Madre Motorcycles.

Gusset jeans is Sierra Madre restaurant. Note the handmade Bikernet belt buckle.

We jumped off the freeway for chow at the Pepper Tree in the quaint Sierra Madre village. After refueling we were hell bent for Barstow on the 15, the main artery to Las Vegas. It’s a grizzly stretch of desert asphalt aimed at the border of Nevada and California.

We rode from the 210 to the 57 south, to the 10 east, to the 15 north, where we discovered that the 210 connected to 15 directly. We sliced through traffic jams in Monteclair, Ontario and Rancho Cucamonga. These goddamn towns are spreading across the desert toward Vegas like Locust on a ripe crop of corn. The traffic is stifling in Los Angeles, but there are times, when the revs of your motor match the rhythm of your heart beat, and you dance with the devil in lane number one. When the fast lane lagged we dropped, like fighter pilots, across four lanes of whizzing compact bumblebees, into the slow lane, between off ramps. We down-shifted a gear and gunned our motors, until we screamed past the slugs, then peeled back, through the vast expanse of lanes, to our home in Fastville. Dr. Hamster, aboard his ghost flamed ’89, blacked out FLT, with over 200,000 miles on the clock, slipped traffic like a wire through pepper cheese.

Freeways expand annually, but the traffic spreads with over-population, like ants in a sugar bowl. There’s no catching the growth. At one time various freeway sported motley personalities. The 15 was a truckers’ freeway, but now it’s Las Vegas central, fighting with 18-wheelers, for asphalt space, as the highway narrows peeling between desolate Day Canyon and the desert town of Fontana leading into the San Bernadino National Forest. For the first time we smelled open highway mixed with diesel fumes and blistering heat. The King held to the road tight as we piled on the high-octane coals and roamed into the hills toward Hesperia, the home of Atlas Frames.

“I won’t do much over 90,” the good Doctor told me at a gas stop. “This thing quivers too much.” We discussed Wil’s invention, the True-Track. “Yeah, I talked to Wil,” Chris grimaced, “he doesn’t manufacture them for early Evos.”

Mountain Gusset jeans test.

While flying along the freeway, just slightly below his limit, I watched the ass of his FLT shake like a plump girl dancing to Chubby Checker. The King held fast except on one sprawling stretch of cement freeway, carved with a cheese grater device, to form rain grooves. Occasionally the grooves snagged my Avons. They were no- more than hiccups on an otherwise perfect ride. We could smell Barstow, as if a camel could sniff sand, 60 miles east, as we cut through the Cajon Pass at 4260 feet. We made light of the next 40 minutes peeling through open miles, darting from one car or 18-wheeler to the next, like a kid playing pinball with Toyotas. Except our rule book called for going around as many lumbering vehicles as possible without touching any.

Barstow is a town millions travel through, yet never see. Freeways have that adverse effect on society. They slice through lovely seaside communities, but the travelers never experience the water’s edge. I’ve skidded through Barstow too many time to mention, but this time we rolled off the second “Business exit”. There were four. We should have stayed on the freeway and hit Daggot, Baker or Ludlow. Take it back, they’re all two-pony towns with one gas station. At least Barstow accommodates five restaurants, a major supermarket, and another succulent item, I’ll mention later.

It’s a dusty berg, of one main street and a myriad of motels, two Holiday Inns (one at each end of town) and a couple of Route 66 joints. Two main Mexican restaurants called to us, singing Maria’s Cantina ballad, but we were on a mission to hook up with 50 Hamsters riding across the country to Sturgis. The last time I split with them through 1,800 miles to the badlands, was two years ago, when I head-butted a deer, on a Buell, in Wyoming.

The hotel parking lot was jammed with customs and dressers. We unpacked and asked the host behind the counter for a room. “We have one, but it’s smoking,” the young guy wearing an flowered Hawaiian shirt said.

“When it stops smoking, we’ll take it,” I said. The Gusset jeans survived their first putt. The bike was peaking at 224 degrees in the 97 temperature and Chris’s Betsy held to 165 degrees. It was time for a beer.

It was good to see the bros, and even better to see Jennifer, the bartender. She sported a recent boob job and wore a top she should wear while cleaning her kitchen on a hot day. In her late twenties her boobs pushed against that spaghetti strapped, shear fabric like… Well, you know. They popped over the top, pressed out the sides and protruded just above her thin waist. Her budding nipples talked more than she did. The first thing that came to mind were the ominous words Sin Wu said to me as I pulled the King into the street, “Do me a favor. Don’t hook up with a girl in Barstow and make another life long friend.”

I could see friendship, in the making, each time Jennifer bent over the deep sink to clean a glass, those luscious soft mounds whispering endless tenderness to me.

View from Ramada window.

Shifting gears, back outside Barry Cooney pointed out his latest creation that’s scheduled for the cover of ER in the near future. It was a S&S, 120 inches of chopped monster surrounded by Ness frame, wheels, controls, etc. Barry has an eye. Mr. Lucky was one fine looking motorcycle. I apologize for not taking a group shot of the yellow shirted rodents. I was consumed with hanging out with some longtime pals.

Here’s a tip, not a tit, yet. Barry’s bike sports an S&S shorty and it was gagging at mid range. He tried everything to remedy the problem with no luck. Even S&S volunteered a carb replacement. He finally hauled the bike to a renowned motor man. After research, he discovered that the big engine was sucking the float bowl dry through the vent. He drilled a direct vent to the outside of the carb and welded up the internal vent. The bike hauls ass.

Speaking of ass, we scarfed enchiladas at a local Mexican restaurant and returned to Molly’s bar. I was wearing a DragonFly Hawaiian marvel that caught Jennifer’s eye. “I see you cleaned up, big boy,” She said with a smile that would melt a man, like a rose bud torch tip. My Diamond Gusset jeans handled the Jack Daniels with aplomb, but I avoided making a new friend. After five marriages, I’ve learned something. Not sure what the hell it is, but I blinked and let the opportunity pass. She had soft blue eyes and a smile that beckoned. A playfulness danced on her lips.

I finished my Jack and said goodnight as the conversation lingered. It was good to hang with the guys and catch up.

The Hamsters were scheduled to ride to Williams, Arizona the next morning, a mere 180 miles down the road. They had no choice, but to peel along the 40 interstate into the brittle Arizona underbrush. We had cut through a taste over 200 miles to reach Tarantula Tomb Barstow. Williams and another freeway didn’t call to us. We wanted two-lane highways and twisties.

Train racked sunrise in Barstow.

I was up at 6:00 a.m., since two sets of train tracks border the swimming pool out back, and our room faced the pool. Every 15 minutes trains packed with 40-foot truck containers rumbled past hell bent for Los Angeles, like machine-gun fire in the ghetto. I opened the window once and the crackling noise of a passing train blew me over my bed. But the sunrise was spectacular over the barren arroyo in the distance.

I dusted off my HA leather vest, donned a Crime Inc. T-shirt, and the good doctor and I hit the road before the rodents climbed out from under their sawdust covers. Small roads were the order of the day. The winding choices throughout the southern half of California were many: Big Bear, Ortega Highway, Oceanside, Escondido, San Clemente. We jumped desolate 247 running out of Barstow for the hills where we had breakfast in the Lucerne Valley. Check the signs around the restaurant at the corner of 18 and 247 Highways. It was nearing 75 degrees and the King’s oil was relaxing at 202 degrees in comparison to the Doctor’s dresser at 150 degrees.

We began a hill and mountain hopping ride on the 18, to the 38 into Yucipa, then stopped in Redlands for a beer. It was cresting 90 degrees, but the King’s oil had cooled to 191 degrees and the blacked out FLT was flying at 130 degrees. At that point the Doctor revealed that he was catching the 24 hour Mung. At 90 degrees under dazzling, Southern California sun shine, he had the chills.

We were in Redlands when I backed away from him at the Hotel California and dashed toward my ride. We caught a the 10 Freeway to the 91 and onto the 215 into Perris where we jumped off on the 74 by shear luck and scrambled over the Highway Patrol-encrusted Ortega Highway. They were behind every pine tree strewn corner. Bikers waved us to slow down at each bend.

We dipped and weaved into San Juan Capistrano on empty tanks, refueled, grabbed a bite to eat, jumped the 405 north to Los Angeles and home. I rolled into breezy San Pedro in the afternoon with 430 miles on my trip gauge, for the weekend, and 215 degrees on the digital oil temp gauge. Every rider we ran across praised the King and discussed finding one. The bike ran flawlessly, and the Diamond Gusset jeans survived the heat, the sand and the hot wind. I would estimate that the oil temps were down 20 degrees, we avoided rain and goddamnit, got to party with the bros.

–Bandit

Life is nuts, but we are scrambling on the Mudflap Girl FXRs, at least mine. Us old farts constantly have discussions about how unmotivated kids are. I want to work on my bike constantly. Every waking minute I’m thinking about it, about new ideas, innovations, and who I can reach out to for resources. My son just complains: “I’d have to drive over there…”

I constantly come up with Plan B, another connection, or build it myself. We crawled out of the Sunday sack at 6:00 a.m. to haul ass to the Long Beach Swap Meet, just to scour rows of vendors for parts, to find a handful of pieces, and we scored. If it wasn’t for the Sunday Post, I’d comb the isles once a month, at least.

Whatever, I’m about to wire and fire-up the first Mudflap Girl creation with Spitfire, H-D, and JIMS.
But let’s back up to installing the Trock-modified CV carburetor. I ran over to Branch O’Keefe next to Bennett’s Performance on Signal Hill to discuss an intake manifold. I don’t have anything against most dealers, but I like to work with the talented independent shops, owned by guys with history, who go the extra mile for performance, quality, and their customers.

I feel Bennett’s and Branch O’Keefe work hard to keep guys on the road, with high performance motorcycles. John O’Keefe dug around and came up with a very rare H.E.S./Branch Evo intake manifold. I helped Andy Hansen get Harley Engine Specialties off the ground in the ’70s. Andy passed, as did Trock a few years ago. He was a great guy with veins full of 60-weight. John told me he still has a few of these rare, tested, flowed performance intakes and wanted me to try one.

With John’s assistance, these guys are building hot rod twin cams with some very special confidential products. I’m hoping to bring you the story and access to some of these secret products in the near future. I mounted his intake with stock clamps.

After installing the rear wheel, we discovered the oil tank could not be installed from the front with the engine and trans in place, and we had to remove the rear wheel. It wouldn’t install from the rear without removal of the wind guard and one frame-mounted rubbermount. We made it work without removing the engine and trans.

At this point, we jumped around the bike looking for any project affording completion, without trips to suppliers, missing fasteners, or parts orders. We took a hard look at Spyke’s new BDL starter jackshaft fix. I’ve used BDL systems for ten years without a problem, and no starting hassles. It took us a while to understand this system. Basically, it allows the starter gear to bounce, not jam into the ring gear. Once we understood how the Spyke fix operated and the lack of spring travel in the BDL system, we came face to face with the benefits. We moved on to fitting the fender.

This tough 9-inch fender fit perfectly with some slight modification grinding on the Spitfire fender rail tabs, but the bottom front of the fender smacked the oil bag and prevented perfect alignment. With some heat and our shop press, we pushed a buffing groove in the fender. Then we cut the massive notch for the chain and the fender was getting damn close. Ray took up the grinding duties after I cut the notch with the plasma cutter.

Then we turned back to the oil bag, which we had grown nervous about some characteristics. This was a one-off, first attempt by the Spitfire motorcycle crew. They did a helluva job, but we noticed that the return and vent oil bungs were down the face of the bag, restricting oil capacity. We stopped by Gard Hollinger’s LA Chop Rods facility and asked for a couple of 1/8-inch pipe threaded bungs. Gard doesn’t manufacture that size, but he does make ¼-inch pipe thread bungs, which seemed foreign to me, but we stepped up.

This was a tough, and scary operation. I didn’t want to risk drilling and dropping metal shavings in the tank. Jim Murillo recently sealed the tanks and coated the interior. The alternative was a 2.2-quart oil bag over a 4-quart oil bag. We swallowed hard and started the operation of drilling the holes in the top of the tank. I turned the bungs down slightly so I didn’t have to drill ¾-inch holes in the tank.

Ah, but for every obstacle, there’s an opportunity. We discovered a perfect exterior clear oil gauge, fucking beautiful. We started to drill the holes in the top of the tank for the return lines.

We also had a squirrelly obstacle with the top motormount. The frame came with a chunk of tubing protruding directly down from the backbone under the tank. In the end of the tubing, the Spitfire crew welded a hearty bung, and it was drilled and tapped to 7/16 fine threads. I went on the hunt for some 7/16 hiem joints and McMaster Carr had a couple in stock. That was my initial direction, but it had its drawbacks.

I kept looking for alternatives and discovered a tab that was part of the Biker’s Choice top motormount kit. The slot in one end was 7/16-inch, and it pushed the hiem joint anchor spot out far enough for the pivot point to reach the stock hole in the top motormount. I went to work welding it, but Dr. Willie didn’t like my fix. I want to give it a shot.

We also ran into a return line problem with the stock Softail engine configuration. The return oil line from the filter pointed directly at the transmission. We straightened it and ran the line, then thought about running an oil filter. We went on a search for an old Cadillac power steering oil cooler. This turned into an afternoon excursion, hitting junkyards in our ghetto area and all the auto parts stores. At the last Auto Zone, we scored this Cadillac power steering oil cooler and made a mad dash back to the shop.

We considered running one of those front motor-mount regulator brackets, but I didn’t like the way it interfered with the mount and the engine fasteners. Since the frame was built perfectly for this application, we cut and fitted a chunk of rectangular tubing stock between the frame rails to house the Spyke regulator.

We drilled it, installed fasteners from the back, and welded them into place, forming studs on the front. It was good to go once we tacked it into the frame. This project has a devilish twist, since we plan to build it, then test ride for a month or two before a paintwork teardown. I’m not using nylock fasteners this time around, just lock washers. Some items will be TIG welded, whereas some will be MIG spot welded for the tryout period.

When I grappled with the Biker’s choice CV carb mounting system, including breathers, I discovered the Branch/H.E.S. intake difference. I was forced to slice and weld the bracket in an alternate position. That puppy will need to be ground and reshaped before powder coating. We moved ahead and I discovered my Goodsen Fantasy in Iron air cleaner was built for a Mikuni, so I traded with my son for his Roger Goldammer, hand-pounded, stainless steel unit.

What a sharp, well-thought-out chunk of artistic workmanship. Everything about his air cleaner was well configured, from the backing plate to the position of the fasteners. It came with all the necessary fasteners and two foam sock-like filter elements.

I have never liked the single bolt rear axle adjuster. It allowed the axle to float and shift from its required setting, which can be downright dangerous. I ordered some special fasteners and set to drilling and tapping the stern of the swingarm bosses. They were massive, solid chunks of Spitfire steel. It took some time, but now the axle is locked into position.

Then we started to grapple with the kickstand. The obvious choice was a weld-on unit from Mr. Lucky, but he didn’t have any in stock.

I needed to install the 3-inch BDL belt system, to see where the kickstand would hit. Some kickstands can be a bear to reach, or take up much needed ground clearance. The more I looked at the Spitfire forward controls, the more I didn’t want to mess with that area. The only kickstands available that might fit this configuration were pricey jobs, and I suspected they wouldn’t fit. I started to dig around.

This new BDL belt drive fell into place after I drove the pins into the engine pulley. The clutch slipped right into place, and then I carefully selected washers and shims behind the engine pulley until both pulleys were aligned.

This new system has just two big, tough, 3/8-inch stud fasteners and stand-offs. One has a step in it, and it took very little time to determine which position it was machined for. The rear stud hung over the ring gear and needed additional clearance, but I goofed. I used red Loctite on the stud, and I should’ve stuck with blue. I’ll have to remove the aluminum stud anytime I remove the clutch.

Then inspiration surfaced with the notion to run a rear kickstand. In searching my parts bins, I came across a wild kickstand base. Unlike the old ones from the ’30s to the ’70s, this one worked the same, but was heavy and cast. With Ray’s assistance, we came up with the materials and the notion to bolt it to the swingarm cap, which is held with two 7/16 fine bolts. I went to work while Ray peeled out for Cook’s Shootout in Bonneville.

I tacked and tested it until I was convinced I hadn’t completely fucked up. Then I cut off the tabs, and ground and shaped the massive chunk of steel. I TIG welded this puppy together, mounted it, and made a cool stop threaded into the frame.

Next, I’ll start wiring with Wire Plus products and the bike should run within a week or two. Then it’s off to Saddlemen for a seat. Hang on, the Mudflap Girl will live.

But wait, I forgot that we installed the Spyke Push-Button solenoid starter. It eliminates weak connections, starter relays, and starter button wiring. It’s a breeze to install, but it’s important to make sure, once the button is released, it’s fully clear of contact.

Sources:

Spitfire

Biker’s Choice

JIMS Machine

MetalSport

BDL/GMA

Wire Plus

Branch O’Keefe

Bennett’s Performance

Custom Cycle Engineering

If you’re like my freedom seeking self,once in a while youneed to ride. I don’t mean ride to the goddamnbar or even to arally, bike show or event. I’m talking aboutgetting out of town, outof the city, and out of site. That was the mentalplan. What happeneddidn’t exactly fit the criteria, but in somerespects improved on thebasis, in others it failed miserably.

At first I was going to ride alone. At onetime I rode toPhoenix several times alone. I enjoyed it.Riding alone, in a sense, iswhat it’s all about for me, but then I startedmentioning the runto pals. Keep in mind that this was not anetched-in-stone puttin’ proposal, like what youwrite down on your calendar for next weekend.It was a notion, like a kid dreaming of going toDisneyland. I just needed to get out oftown, but I didn’t know when the eventwould take place until I spoke to my ridingpartner of many years, Dr. Hamster. When Imentioned it to him, he said, “Yeah.” Then hegrabbed his calendar. A plan began to form.Initially I wanted to ride to Tombstone and visitthe Kennedy’s and hang out for the weekend.Then Frank Kaisler said that he had businessin Phoenix, and I know a bunch of riders in thecustomindustry there. I contacted a buddy I’ll just callSteve who hadrecently launched himself into a devastatingdivorce by screwingevery other woman he met. The plan wasaltered then modified again.Kenny Price of Samson Exhaust also threwhis helmet in the ring.

Dr. Hamster at Grand CanyonCaverns.

Ultimately Dr. Hamster called with anexact date, we’d rollout after Thanksgiving. Then the hammer wasdropped and riders had to commit to a winterride to Arizona. Frank dropped out, KennyPricehad to go to Bullhead, Arizona on businessand couldn’tmake it.

I spoke to Micah McCloskey from MicahMcCloskey’s CustomCycles and he was primed. Dr. Hamstercalled a buddy who needed toescape, he was also up for it. Steve decidedthat two days after ahemorrhoid operation was too soon to ride.He dropped out. I didn’tcare who came or went. I just wanted to ride.Once we had a date Icalled the Kennedys. We chose the wrongdate. They were going to Vegas forThanksgiving. Another plan alteration. Micahisa died-in-the-woolrider. For 20 years he rode a rigid Indian untilhe shifted to andFXR and felt 16-years-old again. We coulddepend on him, besideshe’s an Ugly and Uglies ride. Micah startedcalling me late at night,”What’s the plan?”We sorted it out. Once Micah was involved hecalled me backand asked respectively, “ya see, I’m a recentlymarried guy. I mayneed to bring my wife.”I didn’t have any problem with that. I justwanted to ride.His wife, Carmela, works for a charity calledthe ExceptionalChildren’s Foundation. It’s the charity that theBeach Ride Supports.Micah is now the president of the Beach RideCommittee. That’s howthey met. Carmela made a couple of calls.Suddenly there was an ECFdonor who recently bought a resort on Route66 in Northern Arizonawho suggested that we create Beach Ride II inArizona. He offered usrooms at his 800 acre facility on historic Route66.

A small portion of the 800 acreaestate.

Micah and Ihatched a plan to ride to Prescott andhopefully see Dawne Holmes, oneof the finest custom painters in thecountry. Then the next morning we’d ridenorth threw Chino Valley to Ash Fork betweenWilliams and Kingman on highway 40. Fromthere we could hook up with Route 66 and findGrand Canyon Caverns and Inn. Next the kickoff time must be documented and shared withthe team of riders. We decided to meet forbreakfast and the corner of the 15 and 10freeways at the Travelers Truck Stop at 6:30a.m. That meant that most of us had torise at 4:30 a.m., to be on the road by 5:30, tomake the one-hour haul out of Los Angeles by6:30. Actually, as development expandsyou don’t reach the outskirts of Los Angelesuntil you pass Palm Springs. The documentwas wax sealed, “be there, or be left behind”.

One of our destinations.

Now for a report on the 2003 100thAnniversary King, my ridefor the Arizona Run. The minute I knew thedate I called FrankKaisler, who was recently the editor of HotRod Bikes, and much moreup on the technical aspects of newmotorcycles. I’ll admit it,goddamnit. We had discussed a tech oninstalling Custom Chrome16-inch Apes on the King. I had ordered theparts and they wereburning a hole in my pocket. We had alocked-in run date. I couldn’tride a stock motorcycle.

We set a date forTuesday the 19th to installthe bars. I will write the tech about thatoperation this week. Helisted the materials I needed. He brought toolsto augment mine. Wespent the entire day rewiring the bars throughthe inside, thenmeasuring the cables. He ordered the clutchcable and throttle cablesfrom Barnett. He brought the hoses andfittings to extend the brakelines. When he left that afternoon the job wasnearly complete, minusthe extended cables. I had made anappointment with the Harley-Davidson fleetcenter to install a performance package onFriday. The cables neededto arrive by Thursday. That didn’t happen, butmy photographer forthe American Rider magazine tech articlecouldn’t make it Friday anyway, sothe operation was rescheduled for Monday.Friday the cables didn’tarrive. I panicked. Frank called and waspromised the cables Mondaymorning. I changed our fleet centerappointment until Mondayafternoon.

The completed King, ready for theroad.

At 9:00 a.m. on Monday morning UPSarrived with the cables.Frank and I went to work. Mechanical projectsrarely ramble towardcompletion as quickly as estimated. Wearrived at the fleet center at1:30 Monday the 25 of November and Alan thelead mechanic informed us that he would beleaving at 4:00. We didn’t complete theperformance operation on Monday, but heassured us that by noon on Tuesday wewould be on the road. That gave me twobreak-in and tuning days before kick-off. Heput in a couple of hours Monday afternoon andthe bike was stripped, the cams pressed outof the cam plate and readied for installation.

Tuesday morning arrived and so did we at8:00 a.m. Alan wasthere, but the big man was slummed over achair. He mumbled something about foodpoisoning and went back to the head. Hemade a gallant effort and worked until 9:00when Gene Thomason Jr. arrived torelieve the watch. As he turned to install thecams, he coached me oneach and every aspect of the operation andmentioned, “I can onlystay until 10:30. I have a court deposition.” Wewere burnin’ daylight, or actually burnin’through days.

Wednesday unfolded thesame at 8:00 a.m. and Alan was back on thejob from the 24-hour flu. He moved around theKing with cunning and expertise. He’s ahelluva mechanic. He completed the camoperation, removed and replaced the heads,installed the intake module and newScreamin’ Eagle Air Cleaner kit, thenScreamin’ Eagle two-into-oneexhaust, and finally a tach/speedometerreplacement.

We rolled out of the fleet center ataround 1:00 p.m., aftera dyno run, on Wednesday one free day beforewe’d “Wind ’em up”. Thebike was running and feeling fine, but I stillhad more minoradjustments with the new clutch cable, I hadto pack and prepare thebike for the run, road test it some more with afew break-in milesand see if the adjustable windshield would fit.It didn’t and neededto be modified. I had my chores cut out for myfeeble ass.Needless to say I struggled throughThanksgiving Day runningto the garage, putting another 40 miles on theclock, checkin’ theoil, rerouting the clutch cable and modifyingthe cool Harleyadjustable windshield for the run.

The modified H-D adjustablewindshield.

Then there was packing for thefirst time with the King. I used the crashbarbags for cable androtor locks on one side and spare gloves,paper work and a digitalcamera on the other. For some reason theEpson digital was set to shoot black and whiteand in my numbness I had no notion of how tochange it, no icons on the camera to indicatewhich button to push until it was too late. Iultimately found out but decided in the gloomto leave italone.

I took spare glasses and a Bandit’sDayroll full of tools justin case.Packing for a ride is always a challenge.Unless you were thePoker God and knew exactly the weather androad conditions, you’reforced to pack shit you may or may not need. Ipacked my usualcolorful array of boxer shorts, but since it wasdownright nippy Iwore long johns daily. Never touched myshorts. I packed the top halfof my Harley-Davidson rain gear since it wasalready raining. I wasstill hoping that it was all a vicious threat, but Ipacked it anyway.I don’t usually carry the pants, but I shouldhave, although my newPakistani leather chaps did a commendablejob in the rain. The cheapbastards failed in other regards which I’ll getto later.

As the Thanksgiving night wore on and mytrips to the garageDiminished, the small droplets of raincontinued. They were like atease tempting the fate of the ride. It wasn’tenough to stop therun, on the other hand it reminded me of fiveyears earlier when Irolled out of town in a sprinkle that turned intoa downpour for 400miles. A gruesome putt. I continued to checkthe weather channel andthe reports were grim. I called Dr. Hamsterand announced my bleakintentions. “If it’s raining,” I said into hismessage machine, “Iain’t going.”

When the clock struck 4:30 a.m. and I satup in bed, I grabbed theremote and turned on the television. Theweather reporter began onthe east coast with dire reports of freezingtemps and snow. Itwasn’t a good sign as I wadded throughreports of historic lows inSouth Dakota, but no rain in the region. After20 minutes of pacingthe bedroom in my boxer shorts, they reachedthe south westregion of the country. The rain probabilitypercentage had diminishedfrom 60 percent to 40, but the storm waslocated directly over ourplanned path for the border. I looked outsideas I dressed. It wasdry, although I could see spotted indicationsthat rain was nearby.

Ikissed Layla goodbye and said, This may onlybe a breakfast run.”At 5:30 a.m. I hit the road on the fresh King. Ijumped on the 110Downtown Los Angeles freeway to the 91Riverside Freeway to the 605Freeway to Joker Machine to the 10 Interstateto Palm Springs andbeyond. At exactly 6:30 a.m. I pulled into themassive, sprawling,plastic, franchise Travelers Truck Stop. Thedam thing is so big thatwhen the other riders arrived they couldn’t findus amongst theeateries, gift shops and 7-11 type storesunder one roof. Hell, evenTaco Bell had taken part of the store.When you’re avoiding junk foodit’s a bitch to be forced to walk through a MacDonalds to get to thetruckers’ kitchen.

Micah McCloskey and Greg and TrishO’Neill fooling around at a gas stop.

Continued On Page 2

The King lives again, thanks to the Harley-Davidson Spring catalog supplement. The factory now offers complete blacked out Road King front end components. We replaced the warped nacelle.

With a small brush and a 1/2 pint of gloss black Rustoleum, we touched up chipped fasteners over a couple of Coronas. What’s next? The rear fender needed touch-up. The all-black King was cool, but the damn thing needed some color. That called for old school pinstripping. Finally we liked the new mostly black mags except for the tits around the rim. They seemed out of place. We pondered a solution.

There’s Henry with a Jitter-Bug orbital sander.

We rode over to Henry Figueroa’s Auto Restorations, a steel corrugated building on the wrong side of town. Henry worked for his dad as a kid fixing cars. His mainstay is restoring antique autos and custom paint jobs for four-wheelers from the ’20s through the ’60s (310) 218-9097. Henry said he would fill the holes in the bottom of the fender and prepare it for George, The Wild Brush, to perform his pinstriping magic (310) 488-5488.

Since we didn’t change the color scheme, paying homage to the 100th, we decided to snatch the gold from the edge of the silver band and expand it to other elements of the King. We removed the license plate holder and plastic fender tip in preparation for reworking the fender and filling three holes.

Henry handled the small holes with Z-Grip bondo and welded a plate behind the large quarter-sized hole (used for accessory wiring, then filled it with bondo. With nasty-rough 80-grit sandpaper he shaped the bondo to conform with the fender. Then he used finer sandpaper to continue to smooth the surface until it was as slick as a baby’s ass. Sheet metal and bondo work takes a trained eye and artistic patience. Henry buzzed through it like it was second nature and with a block sander massaging the surface before painting it with House of Kolor primer filler. More sanding with finer, wet-and-dry grits took place before the final black coats were laid over the tip.

It’s the magnificent George, the Wild Brush.

Then we were graced with the talent of George, the Wild Brush, a pinstriper who has been wielding Blue Liner striping brushes for 30 years. As a youngster he worked in the Los Angeles Gasoline Alley. He created wild paint schemes for Mario Andretti, Bill Simpson and Dale Armstrong.

George mixed and matched enamel stripping paints for just the right hue.

He used only enamel striping paints for drying flexibility. He can test, paint and tinker and wipe the surface clean if he’s not happy with the results. “Metallics are much more difficult to work with,” George explained mixing paint and testing the consistency on his delicate brush. “Gold is particularly difficult and may not flow. Anytime I reload the brush there may be a matching problem.” He used talcum powder, to keep his hands from sticking to the metal face being striped, for a pure clean line. With a grease pencil he marked the center of the fenders and went to work freehand, without so much as a sketch.

Sometimes George uses masking tape to find the center of the fender.

Pinstriping is a delicate art form often administered in public.

The front fender gave George the best vantage point and position for striping so it received the finest workmanship.

We wanted an old school appearance and his seasoned talents were perfectly suited for the task. With the rear fender tip touched by the Wild Brush, he moved onto the front Street Stalker fender, then the horn cover and finally a small touch to the jet hot, flat- black-coated Screamin’ Eagle air cleaner cover. George instructed us to wait three weeks before adding protective wax to the finish. He suggested Turtle wax as a polish that works without harmful abrasives or chemicals. That’s it for this issue.

Here’s before and after the Jet Hot flat black coated Screamin’ Eagle Air Cleaner was striped.

Keeping his striping brush loose and flexible before completing the rear fender.

The rear fender, while on the bike, was awkward to stripe without a lift. The paint still needs final polish.

George pointed out a little trick for the powder coated point cover. Instead of striping it, and since our powder crew coated the back side, he rubbed some of the gray enamel into the slots and left it to dry with a light coat of gray on the surface. “That’s not a problem,” George pointed out. “Leave it for a couple of days then polish the cover. It will look as if it was striped.”

I sanded the tits on the wheel with 400 wet and dry just to create a surface that would hold the touch up excercise. I was determined that the legs of the wheels are powdercoated flat black, perhaps over a clear coat that covers the entire wheel. This was a test. The right way might include taking the wheels off, machining the tits away and re-powdercoating the entire wheel.

I used a rag and harsh electrical contact cleaner to prepare the surface for touch-up.

This will tweak your mind. I painted the tits on the alloy wheels with the gold paint first. Then I stood back and eyed the job. It looked sharp and added a touch of color. On the other hand it had that gold-trimmed Cadillac appearance. That was a bastard to swallow.

What’s a poor Bandit to do? I went after the other side of the bike with cheap brushes and black touch-up paint. The exact same procedure on the right, but without the gold paint. Let me know what you think.

That did it. We installed the bags with the left side touched in gold and the right handled with hardened black. I still can’t decide what side I like the best. The women lean toward the gold. Let us know what you think? I still might stripe the wheels, machine them, then black powder both entirely. That’ll answer that goddamn question. See ya next time for our oil cooler install that’s currently being featured in American Rider.

–Bandit

Around mid June Kerry and myself were organizing our trip to Sturgis, when Bandit contacted me an asked how would I liketo ride the Road King to Sturgis. Immediate thoughts were Wholly Shit, I’ve read all about the King on Bikernet and watchedthe different stages Bandit has put it thru, so I was very familiar with it, and for Bandit to be asking me was really a big deal, meaning, I felt honored enough when Bandit invited Kerry and myself to join them on the ride, let alone ride his bike. So youprobably guessed the answer was a big >>>>>> Yes Sir !! thank you very much.

For the readers who aren’t familiar with the Road King, I’ll enlighten you. It started life as a stock 2003, 100th Anniversary model.Bandit said he designed the bike be a big bad assed, blacked out touring bike with heaps of attitude. Bandit and his crew wanted to use as many H-D parts as they could to prove you could build a mean assed bike out of Harley Davidson’s catalogue. They started by blacking out the dash, a set of one inch lowered air shocks and a detachable back rest along with some neat touring components. With the help from a dealer for some more involved tech mods to gain horsepower and some low-down torque, they came up with a formula by adding performance cams, Screaming Eagle Heads, air cleaner kit and two into one pipes powder coated black, giving them 68 horses compared to 60 and torque was 76 pounds with a 6 pound increase. Next they installed a factory oil cooler which Bandit tested on a run to Barstow saying how it kept the oil at a very reasonable temperature which is critical for long term, Twin Cam reliability.

Fast forward to Sturgis, August 2005 and Kerry, my wonderful bride, and myself arriving at the Bikernet Headquarters being greeted by Bandit and the lovely Nyla. We were enjoying a beer while having a grand tour of their unbelievable home when Bandit said, “Get ya helmet Goddamit, we’re going for a ride.”

It’s hard to explain the excitement that was welling up inside of me, especially when I first laid eyes on Bandit’s bare boned, mean as shit Shovel, I swear it had a look like, let’s go, I’m ready. And right beside it sat the Road King.

It definitely looked like itwas ready to do some very serious miles, man. It looked beautiful, all blacked out like a road warrior ready for action, 16-inch apes reaching for the sky, a very comfortable looking seat and a detachable back rest for Kerry. I gotta tell you these two bikes were like chalk and cheese, the Road King had all the creature comforts and Bandit’s Sturgis Shovel had absolutely nothing, excepta little back fender and a sprung seat, Shit !!! and he’s riding it to Sturgis, tough sonofabitch, I thought to myself.

Just as the sun was setting over Long Beach we fired those puppies up and peeled out of the Bikernet Headquarters like two crazed maniacs going for their first ride after a long cold winter, ( sound familiar Bandit ). Seriously thou, we cruised around Long Beach taking in the sights and both of us getting used to our rides. We both had grins from ear to ear, especially when we twisted the wick on these babies, I was blown away, the King with it’s sheer size and weight, had some serious acceleration, man. I was impressed plus having a lot of fun and Bandit’s shovel went like a rocket, with it’s power-to-weight making it an awesome ride.

This was going to be my 4th trip to Sturgis (beginning in Australia) and I knew 100 percent this trip was going to be very special, I was feeling right at home on the Road King, everything was perfect except for the bloody windscreen, I think it was set up for Bandits 6′ 4” frame and I could not get used to it, but Harley had it covered. Two seconds and it was off, no problem.

I would love to tell you about our trip to Sturgis, but it’s been covered by Bandit and Johnny Humble, the young gun from Texas, both really great stories and you can still check them out by going to The Events Coverage in Bikernets Department Site.

It’s hard to put into words, the true feeling of this road trip with such great company, I will say that we were very privileged to get to ride with them, even thou we live on the other side of the world, I know that Kerry and myself have forged life-time friendships and hopefully will get to do it again some day.

I have been privileged to ride a lot of bikes in my time and I must say the Road King was bloody brillante, we covered 4000 miles all up, came across all types of weather (as we all do) including high altitudes where the King never missed a beat with it’s superb fuel injection and very smooth motor. Seating was great, and I just loved the apes. Not only do they look really cool with an attitude, they were really comfortable.

I will post some photos of our trip that you haven’t seen and would like to do a follow up of our trip from where Kerry and myself parted company from the rest of the crew, returning to L.A. via Denver, Santa Fe, Sedona and Vegas.

I would like finish up by thanking Bandit and Nyla for their friendship, hospitality and giving us such a great time, not forgetting the use of their Road King.

Okay guys thats a wrap, hope you like it.

Yep, these techs will be backwards. I just rolled in fromArizona after the first 1,000-mile test ride after installinghighbars, performance parts, and modifying the windshield to fit thehighbars. So why publish the techs backwards starting with thewindshield? We’re lazy. This one will be short and the next two,since Frank Kaisler was involved, will be mammoth techs withthousands of photographs. Hang on for them, but if you’ve installedhighbars on a Softail or a King model and have long arms like myself, the windshield may be a problem to attach, but there’s acareful, simple cure.

First put the shield in place and decide if you can endure ahandlebar adjustment or not. If you pull the bars back in line withthe front end, the windshield will fit without a problem. You mightcheck it for 80 mph flexing which could cause rubbing against thebars, cables, brake hoses or wiring (if you didn’t run the wiresinternally). I took short wire ties and held small soft stripes ofrags around the cables that would have been damaged.

So I shoved the bars forward until the windshield would havefallen off the front-end. I’m not a big fan of windshields, but whenyou plan a ride through a 1,000 miles of rain, cold and wet highways, it’s a plus. I used the adjustable windshield from Harley-Davidson which allowed me to raise or lower it. I discovered that the lowered position is actually more comfortable in the rain. If I had raised it, I would have looked through the shield which was scattered with water and streaks. Visibility sucks and distraction wasoverwhelming, so I lowered it and my visibility was perfect while stillmaintaining the comfort and protection of the shield.

So what the hell did I do? I cut scallops in the plasticshield. First I marked off the area of the shield that had to beremoved with 1/4-inch masking tape and began to grind through theplastic with a bench grinder, the finer of the two stones. I tookcare to keep the edge of the plastic aimed down so the stone wouldn’t grab the sonuvabitch and crack it. I ground one corner then the next to search for a basic rounded feel. I avoided sharp edges or grooves that could crack. Since this was no perfect established science, I took my time slicing notches then slipping the windshield into place. I went back and forth to the grinder over and over. You might want to wear a breathing filter during this process and eye protection.

Once I was close to the finished area on one side, I took thewindshield to the vice and with leather pads on either side of themounting bracket clamped it down. Then with a high speed drill and a burr bit began to cut and shape some more. This, I found was difficult and took care not to allow the bit to grab and cut into theclear surface, but I was able to clean the edge some more. Ire-installed the shield again and determined that I was damn close.

Keep in mind that this was a last minute operation onThanksgiving day, between writing projects and packing for a run tothe desert. As the evening closed in it began to rain, a rarity inthis neck of the woods. I jogged in the house and flipped on theweather channel. The gods of the Roulette table had decided that Iwas not supposed to ride this weekend. The only rain east of theMississippi was dead over the 10 interstate from Los Angeles to theArizona State line. That made the windshield project even moreparamount. I dashed back to the garage.

Once I was close to the necessary fitment, style andprecision matching became a consideration. I ran a piece of maskingtape up the side of the stainless steel strut straight up the shieldas a measuring guide. Then I measured up from the horizontal strut to where the cut began. With these measurements I was able to compare them on the opposite side for an even scallop into the shield. I went back to the grinder and to the burr device for the final shaping. I continued back and forth a dozen times from the grinder then the high speed drill and back again. Once I had it nailed down, predominately with the grinder, I used an emery bit to smooth the edge of the Plexiglas.

That completed the cutting and shaping although the unitdidn’t lock entirely into place. I knew that once on the road thewind would prevent it from escaping. One small wire tie held thespring lock on the detachable windshield to the clutch cable foradded insurance. Just under 1,000 miles later I pulled back into SanPedro with a completely successful ride under my sore ass, provingthat careful mods to the Plexiglas windshield are completelypossible. Rah, rah.

In a world where over promising and under delivering has become all too common here is a gem I must share. The Bikernet built Shrunken FXR has become my daily rider and needed a couple small adjustments to be just perfect for me.

One detail was the too small seat or the bike was too fast (pick one). So I rode my bike over to meet the nice folks at Saddlemen and see what they could do to help me out with my seat. Upon arriving at the Saddlemen facility I spent time with guys from the front office to the guys in the shop ( all of whom took great interest in my motorcycle and the seat they were going to design and build). I noticed from the get-go these people were all riders. I shouldn’t be impressed by that, but there are so many folks in this industry who don’t even ride anymore.

We discussed what I needed (lumbar support) and a lip on the edge of the seat to keep me from being bucked off or sliding onto the rear fender. We also discussed the lines of the bike and that in the case of the Shrunken FXR , less was more. After the team and I spent a great deal of time figuring out what we wanted and didn’t want I was able to walk around the shop and see the whole seat making process from start to finish. man was I impressed!

We will bring you the whole story in a Bikernet tech article next week.

–Buster Cates

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This is a blast. The year is just starting and shit is flying at us everyday. Gary and the gang from next door delivered enough steel I-beams and C-beams to build a deck, and in two days a gang from Long Beach will deliver a pool table into the Bikernet barracks and gym. And if we are lucky, (today is Wednesday the 3rd of January 2012) we will have all the elements in place to fire my son’s Mudflap girl bike on Tuesday, while IKustom films the event for his TV series. We may even have a live Mudflap Girl in the shop.

While my Mudflap baby is waiting on a custom Saddlemen seat, I hurriedly shifted back to my son’s version of the FXR. We needed to wrap up some minor elements, and hit the Ace Grip/Wire Plus wiring. Then we would be ready for another Saddlemen seat.

Before I could finalize the primary system, we needed to order a rear belt from Biker’s Choice. One of the major benefits of chains over belts is the mechanics. We had to pull the whole motorcycle apart to install the belt. It had better be the proper length–it was.

It took a while to clearance the outer primary around the Rivera Primo Inc. inner belt drive system. I needed to have the mid controls in place before I could install the weld-on Mr. Lucky kickstand that contoured the frame. All the appropriate elements needed to be in place. With the final linkage in position through a plastic tube that acts as a bushing, we moved forward, we installed the Primo Rivera belt and clutch system, but I still had to make a clutch pushrod. I removed the tranny pipe-side cover and checked the throw-out bearing type.

We finally made it, although my hard-working son was absent. At first, I grappled with the mentoring scenario. I shouldn’t lift a wrench without him on hand. Two elements pulled me from the tough-love fatherly position. Frank is struggling to support two ex-old ladies and three kids. This is a lesson to every young man. Beware.

You can imagine the tug-o’-war that goes on constantly. I’m not completely innocent. I was predominately an absentee father. A decade ago, I spent some time on the board of three group homes for abandoned kids. These kids had no folks and the effects were manifested in their lives like that tsunami in Japan. Kids need parents. Our society is all jacked up when it comes to sex and kids. I won’t go there, but the bottom line is simple: Kids need to be carefully planned and looked after. They need both folks and a stable family. So, I said, “Fuck it!”  I’m moving forward to finish Frank’s bike, whether he’s on site or not.

Besides, we are rolling into 2012 and need to wrap up these bikes, road test them, break them in and prepare for the ride to Sturgis. Actually, I started to bug two of my grand kids who are 16 and 18, and very sharp, but ditched high school. Frankie or Frank Jr. is working as a tattoo artist, and I encouraged him to set some goals for 2012. He stepped up to take over the XS project, and came over to help with his dad’s bike. It was good to see him involved.

With the mid-controls in place, I could breakout Mr. Lucky’s weld on kickstand and begin the installation. I needed to make sure to assemble it is a safe location. Any time you have springs, ball bearings, and tiny setscrews, you need to be careful. It’s not a bad notion to perform assembly over a soft rag, so parts can’t vanish into a black hole.

This is actually a simple operation, but it takes 220 volts and a welder, either TIG or MIG. I slipped the supplied spring in the body of the kicker arm, then the ball bearing on top of the spring. Then the bare metal piece is carefully slipped into place. It’s easy to tell how to position the arm and the ball, since there are just two ball indents. So, the flat side of the bare chunk faces forward. Before final assembly, I will completely grease the ball, the spring, the mating surfaces of the weld-on portion, and the axle pin.

With the kickstand arm pushed and held against the spring and the ball, a second set of hands slipped the axle pin into place and started the fine threads. Again, upon final assembly I will blue Loctite the pin threads.

Then I faced the delicate, do, or die job: positioning the weld-on portion. We fitted it several times, then marked the position with a felt pen on the bottom frame rail. Then I loosened the lift clamp, strapped, and rolled the bike over toward the primary side with a strap, until I had it positioned at just the correct angle. This is always a trick. Too far adds dangerous weight to the kickstand and makes the bike awkward to maneuver. If the bike sets too upright, it’s iffy to park, and as with my Shovelhead, I can’t park it in many positions. It wants to pop over. Even the wind can push it over.

With all the touchy elements considered I positioned the Mr. Lucky kickstand against the frame, and folded it up to see how it fit in the running position. It ran smack into the mid controls system, so I adjusted, and we are thinking about running a piece of hose, or even shrink wrap up the kickstand arm to prevent vibration.

With the bike leaned and the arm in the extended position I made two guide marks on the weld-on portion and on the frame rail. Then I could straighten the bike for tacking. I tacked the weld-on bung on both ends, and then tested the position against the straps. Then I ran a bead along both sides with my MIG welder. I plan to double up on the welds with the TIG, once we pull the bike apart.

We were cranking along, but had to step back to my Mudflap girl bike, since the shocks faded and we needed 1-inch longer shocks. We had to pull them apart and add to the bumpers so that the fender would not hit the tire. Progressive has various bumper lengths. The key here is to dismantle the shock, install them, lower the bike until it hits the fender, and make a bumper measurement. Progressive makes hard plastic bumpers in various thicknesses. We made a special tool, used a drill press, and took the shocks apart several times, until we had them dialed in. The key when measuring for shock length is to consider about 1-inch of fade once the shock is installed. We shifted back from a 12-inch shock to 13-inch Progressives.

So, my Mudflap baby was hauled to Saddlemen for the gurus of seats to evaluate. I’ve toured many companies over the years, and the Saddlemen operation is impressive. I met guys who have been making seats for 25 years, and their sons are now working with them. It’s truly a family of operators. They’re very involved in an ongoing hunt for the perfect seat technology. First, they studied foams, and then gels, and now this new design that affords a buffer area to relieve pressure on the spine. We discussed styling and design. Then we peeled out to let the masters consider the options.

We faced an open warm, clear, SoCal day and jammed back into the shop. I started by installing the Biker’s Choice regulator bracket and the Spyke regulator into position. Ray turned to install the S&S carb, since we were faced with the opportunity to install and complete the Crane cam and lifter system. Most Crane products are manufactured by S&S, including their roller rockers for twin cams.

We discovered a crazy tough oil cooler system from Baker Precision, on Signal Hill, and I tacked studs into place on the front frame rails. It’s made in Canada for automotive power steering oil cooling applications. After we installed the belt, we discovered a problem with the rear fender and the belt slot. The fender needed to be removed and reshaped. I also needed to develop a rear brake anchor.

That was the day Buster came by and we decided to go for a ride. I crashed, returned to the shop bruised, but the Shovel kept running. I thought about kicking back and watching Sunday night football, but I needed to pause it, and jammed back to the shop to keep the program rolling on Frank’s bike. While Ray installed the S&S Super E carburetor, I removed the rear wheel, the rear fender, cut a new slot in it, and drilled a hole where the Choppers Inc. Mudflap Girl taillight stem hit the fender.

So here’s the snafu. It surfaced the last time Frank came over. “I didn’t want mid controls,” Frank said. “I wanted forward controls. It’s all your fault.”

In the next segment, we will deal with his changing desires–kids. Then we’ll fire his bike, with the ACE grip wiring system to lead the way.

Sources:

Spitfire

Biker’s Choice

JIMS Machine

MetalSport

BDL/GMA

Wire Plus

Branch O’Keefe

Bennett’s Performance

Custom Cycle Engineering

Saddlemen

Bub

S&S

Mr. Lucky

SADDLEMEN MODS TO THE SHRUNKEN FXR–In a world where over promising and under delivering has become all too common here is a gem I must share. The Bikernet built Shrunken FXR has become my daily rider and needed a couple small adjustments to be just perfect for me.

One detail was the too small seat or the bike was too fast (pick one). So I rode my bike over to meet the nice folks at Saddlemen and see what they could do to help me out with my seat. Upon arriving at the Saddlemen facility I spent time with guys from the front office to the guys in the shop ( all of whom took great interest in my motorcycle and the seat they were going to design and build). I noticed from the get-go these people were all riders. I shouldn’t be impressed by that, but there are so many folks in this industry who don’t even ride anymore.

We discussed what I needed (lumbar support) and a lip on the edge of the seat to keep me from being bucked off or sliding onto the rear fender. We also discussed the lines of the bike and that in the case of the Shrunken FXR , less was more. After the team and I spent a great deal of time figuring out what we wanted and didn’t want I was able to walk around the shop and see the whole seat making process from start to finish. man was I impressed!

So many talented folks all working together to put out an amazing array of products designed by and for riders! It was a real treat to see this and made me truly appreciate what they do much more. Great companies, in my opinion, are made of the people who work for them. So I left my bike for mock-up, and received a call back in a week.

When I showed up I saw the foam of the seat had been formed and pan had been constructed. We discussed coverings and stitching, again less is more. They got it and even pointed out to me the lines of the bike would be reflected in the seat.

Three days later I returned to pick up my bike and see my new seat! A seat is the finishing functioning touch to any motorcycle (much more than something you sit on) it must reflect the bike while being comfortable and a key suspension element.

I was so happy to see the seat. It looked amazing and really I could not have imagined it any better than they had built it. I put my helmet on, thanked them and jumped on the bike to ride away. First thing I noticed was the lumbar support made the bike so much more comfortable to ride and kept me in the perfect position to reach all my controls.

The biggest difference was when I hit a huge pot hole (tons of em’ in area) was my ass stayed firmly planted in the seat and the impact was minimal. The seat made my bike complete.

Can’t say enough about how impressed I was with the Saddlemen crew and facility, in short they made my custom bike have a perfectly functional and stylish seat. The perfect blend of function and form. I suggest anyone who needs a seat built or customized give them a call. They are a family team of bikers designing and building products for bikers. I like it!

–Buster